Shadows of the Soul
by starlight.moon.princess
Summary: "Nothing quite said I love you like the barrel of a smoking gun pointed at one's head." CharlieDraco, Muggle!AU


Petrichor hung heavy over the estate as the shadow snuck past the guards. It was a beautiful summer night, and he couldn't help but regret the fact that he was there to disturb the peace that seemed to permeate through the landscape.

He would have preferred to do this in a far quieter way. He was the unchallenged best when it came to use of knives, after all. But his client had disagreed. As far as she was concerned, nothing quite said I love you like the barrel of a smoking gun pointed at one's head, and there was nothing he could do but bow to her demands.

He would have preferred to leave the scenery as idyllic as it was when he entered the home, but that was a desire that was secondary to fulfilling his job.

* * *

><p>He'd been surprised when Dolohov's wife had contacted him, of course. As far as anyone knew, she was the meekest creature on the face of the planet, and he had only married her for her connections and money.<p>

It turned out he should have looked deeper into the person she was.

He wouldn't have turned down such a lucrative contract, regardless of who his target was, but knowing it was Dolohov – well, for the satisfaction of arranging his death, he was more than willing to let her choose his weaponry without argument.

The man's death would not only be profitable, but it would be one more of Voldemort's soldiers dead – and it would be his own revenge for what he had done to his uncles. Indeed, for him, he was even willing to break his self-imposed rule let himself feel _pleasure_ at being the one holding the gun.

As he slipped into Dolohov's holiday estate, he knew that he was as prepared as he would ever be. Not that any of the fools the man had hired to guard him would be able to capture him even if he was at his worst – by the time they registered the gunshot, he would be long gone.

(He didn't see the point of silencers. As far as he was concerned, if someone needed the extra time it bought them, they also needed to spend a lot more time training and honing their skills. Only amateurs used silencers, and an amateur was the last thing he was.)

Still, not even all his preparation could have equipped him for the face that was waiting for him inside the house.

"Weasley," the man standing over what was obviously a rapidly cooling corpse said, not bothering to look up. "You're late as usual, I see."

"What are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?" he asked in reply, not bothering to hide his surprise at seeing him.

"If you cannot figure that out for yourself, then you're obviously in the wrong business. But then, I don't suppose one can think of anything better from a Weasley, so I should expected it," the blond sneered. He straightened and glared at him, apparently satisfied that the man – Dolohov, Charlie presumed – was actually dead.

"Shouldn't you be protecting Dolohov instead of arranging his death?" Charlie asked, ignoring his comments. "Or have you finally decided to work for a new master?"

As usual, the look Malfoy threw him was enough to melt stone. "If you _must_ know," he sniffed, "Antonin here was found somewhere he shouldn't have been, and my lord assigned me with the duty of making sure that he didn't reveal a word of what he saw. Don't look so worried – I'm sure Mistress Dolohov will pay you your fee. After all, all she wanted was his death, did she not? And obviously, she has gotten her wish."

And before Charlie could ask him how he knew who had paid him, the man vanished in an explosion of black smoke.

Malfoys. Honestly, they were all cut from the same, overly dramatic cloth.

* * *

><p>"So Tom ordered Dolohov's death too?" Dumbledore asked, peering down at him through the half moon spectacles perched precariously on his nose. "Interesting. And you said that the late Mr Dolohov saw something he shouldn't have…Yes, this is truly intriguing news, Mr Weasley. All in all, I think you can give yourself the leave to number this among your successes."<p>

"My successes?" Charlie asked incredulously from the armchair he was sitting on. "I couldn't complete my contract, and you're asking me to consider it a success?"

"Ah, but consider this. We now know that Tom has managed to get his hands on what seems to be a new weapon. And Dolohov is dead, regardless of who actually held the knife. To add to that is the fact that Mrs Dolohov was quite willing to pay you the rest of your fee – yes, I definitely believe that this one can be counted amongst your successful jobs. Perhaps not the _most_ successful, but successful all the same," he concluded, looking at Charlie proudly.

Charlie gawped at him for a few moments before deciding he had better things to think about. People had spent years trying to – and utterly failing at – understand Albus Dumbledore mind, and he definitely had better things to do with the free time he had.

"So what do you plan on doing about it?" he asked instead.

"Doing?" Dumbledore asked, sounding surprised that it was even in his thoughts. "Why, nothing of course. You mentioned it was Mr Malfoy who told you all of this, did you not? I'm sure Severus will let us know exactly what has been happening among Tom's people soon."

He didn't share Dumbledore's faith in Snape, but he knew better than to argue with that tone of voice. It was really hard to forget what had happened to last person who made that mistake, after all – she'd recovered, but the doctors said…Well. That definitely wasn't something he wanted to think about.

With a sigh, he got up from his chair and excused himself from Dumbledore's office. He had no idea what the old coot was planning now, but he had the sinking feeling that he was about to put right in the middle of it all.

* * *

><p>"So. We meet again, Weasley," a low voice murmured as he slipped into place.<p>

He had put his previous encounter with Malfoy out of his mind as soon as possible. He hadn't bumped into him for the ten years that he had been in the business – barring the time in Dolohov's house, of course – and as far as he was concerned, he had at least another ten years before he had to deal with him again.

But fate, it seemed, had rather different ideas of it all.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he asked in terms of a reply.

"Again, Weasley, use what little common sense you have. What do you _think_ I'm doing here?"

"Then you already know that you won't succeed,' Charlie replied, as calm as Draco Malfoy was hyperactive.

"What, because you're here?" he scoffed. "Just try and stop me, Weasley," he said, starting to strut towards the house.

Inwardly, Charlie cursed a blue streak before rushing to stop Malfoy. And he had thought that guard duty around Minerva McGonagall's home would give him a few hours to rest.

* * *

><p>"Did you hear about Emmeline Vance?" Percy asked over the breakfast table in the Burrow. He still wasn't on the best terms with the rest of the Weasleys – considering the fact that he was working for the government and the rest of his siblings were; well…it was understandable, really. At least he was trying to find a happy middle.<p>

"I've heard nothing about that one," Charlie said, reaching for a piece of toast. That was surprising in itself – usually, his sources would let him know about a large assassination at least an hour before it happened. And then there was the fact that they had failed him exactly when someone – he had a guess who – had chosen to carry out one of the permanent contracts for the members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"She was killed right on the backyard of Downing Street," Percy said, sounding disturbed. "Her killer managed to kill her in the middle of one of the best guarded addresses in the country, and NSY still doesn't have any clues as to who it was. There's even talk of pulling _Interpol_ into it all."

That confirmed his suspicions. There was only one person in the business he knew could complete such a complex job, and he found himself begrudgingly impressed. He would have preferred Emmeline hadn't died, of course, but he still had to admire the skill in which it was all planned out.

"Thanks Perce," he said, effectively ending that conversation. As far as he was concerned, if he never saw or heard of Malfoy again, it would be far too soon.

* * *

><p>Of course, fate was listening when he made those comments about Malfoy. It was the only explanation for the fact that he was someone locked with the aforementioned blond in a broom cupboard god knew where.<p>

"So we meet again," he said, finally breaking the awkward silence that had arisen between the two of them when they had squeezed into that small space.

"I believe it is now my turn to ask you the question," he said. "What on earth are you doing here of any places, Weasley? Did Dumbledore send you to guard them too?"

"Not at all," Charlie replied, shaking his head. "There's a rather large contract out on whoever manages to behead the both of them first, and I intend to collect it."

This time, it was Malfoy struck by surprise. "And why would you and your precious Dumbledore want to kill the Dursleys? Wouldn't that break Potter's heart then?"

"The contract is Harry's, not Dumbledore's," Charlie replied simply. "And as to why he's taken out a life insurance on his uncle – well, you'll just have to ask him that yourself."

Malfoy only quirked an eyebrow at that piece of information. "Interesting," he murmured, reminding Charlie strongly of Dumbledore, "Very interesting."

And then, he somehow managed to get them out of the house, a car already there waiting to meet him. "The contract's all yours, Weasley," he said in manner of explanation, opening the door of the vehicle and getting in. "Enjoy."

In that moment, he was struck by a sudden, irrational desire to wrap his hands around the throat of whoever was in the car, chauffeur or passenger. By the time he had been able to shake it off, the car was gone, and Draco with it.

Charlie put the moment's unexpected fury to the back of his mind. He had a job to finish.

* * *

><p>"You're in love," Ginny told him bluntly.<p>

"_What_?"

"Maybe not love," Bill said, interrupting the two of them before Charlie drew Ginny into a fight for even suggesting that. "But whoever it is, you are definitely attracted to them. I probably should have warned you that we tend to go a bit insane when we're jealous – we've never been the best at controlling our tempers as it is, and everything only adds to make it worse."

From the side of the room, the twins smirked at him. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to tell us who it is?" Fred asked.

He could have told them then – spared himself the pain he knew he was about to bring upon himself – but he couldn't gather the courage. Instead, he nodded and said, "Yes, I'm sure," all the while making sure not to look the twins in the eye. He would have to find them later and bribe them into keeping quiet, but as far as he was concerned, it was worth it in exchanging for keeping the truth quiet.

Of all the messes he could have gotten himself into – well, at least this one kept to pattern. All the other disruptions lately in his life had been cause by Malfoy, and he found himself utterly unsurprised that he was the cause of this latest problem he was facing as well.

Damn Malfoys.

* * *

><p>Of course, that wasn't the end of it. It never was.<p>

If he had been lucky, he wouldn't have had to deal with Malfoy again until his attraction disappeared. But, of course, he wasn't lucky in the least, and over the next three months, he encountered Malfoy on over a half a dozen jobs – just about half his complete workload.

By the time they found themselves in front of Karkaroff's house, Charlie was just about ready to explode with frustration. Being around Malfoy so often meant that he hadn't managed to get over his attraction like he had promised himself he would – instead, it had only grown stronger.

All he wasn't was for Malfoy to leave for enough time so that he could get over his feelings. It wasn't much to ask, but instead of disappearing, Malfoy seemed to have taken to doing the exact opposite and following him around whenever he could.

"Could you stop following me around?" he finally asked, pulling Malfoy as far away from the house as possible so that they wouldn't disturb its highly – and obviously justly – paranoid resident.

Instead of replying the way he wanted him to, however, Malfoy just sighed. "You really are an utter idiot, aren't you, Weasley?" he asked, sounding resigned, but at the same time, almost fond of the fact.

"Malfoy, what-"

And before he could continue, the blond had crossed the small distance between them and was kissing him.

For the moment that his lips were on Charlie's, his minds stopped spluttering in bewilderment. And then he withdrew, and all of his confusion came rushing back to him.

"Malfoy-" he started, intending to quiz the blond on exactly what was going on. Of course, he should have known better than to expect he'd cooperate just because he had kissed him.

Instead of waiting and explaining, Malfoy was already moving towards the house in the distance. "If you manage to beat me to him," he called, turning back to look at Charlie with a mischievous grin on his face, "We'll talk."

Charlie shook his head and followed after him. He still didn't know what was going on between the two of them, but if it mean more kisses like the one Malfoy – Draco – had laid on him just moments ago, he had no problem with it.

Besides, he wasn't about to let him beat him to Karkaroff the way he had with Dolohov. There were still a Weasley and a Malfoy, and it was Charlie's duty to show him just which one of them was better.

(Calming Draco down once he did that would just be the icing on the cake, as far as he was concerned.)

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope the fact that it was an assassin Muggle!AU was surprising ;)  
>Kararoff is paranoid because he's found himself in a situation similar to one he had in the books - trusted by neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort, only in this case, both sides are willing to order his death. Justified paranoia, really.<strong>

**This was written for the Hunger Games: Fanfic Style Competition, using the prompts word: petrichor; emotion: fury; character: Percy Weasley; pairing: Charlie/Draco and genre: crime.  
>I hope you guys liked it! As always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)<strong>


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